Love is Everything Read online

  “It’s an exclusive club,” he said. “Only ever two members.”

  I drew in a shuddering breath at his proximity. He was so close I could smell the sweet but woody scent of his cologne. The burning heat in my cheeks signified that my stupid blush had surfaced in full force. My heart was thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

  “You want to join?” he continued. “I promise it will be fun.”

  I turned, my customary frown still etched on my face.

  “Ohhh . . .” I gasped understanding his implied intention. Him, and me. We’d be the only two members.

  “To join, all you have to do is write your name, address and telephone number on this piece of paper.” He smiled again, backing away before handing me a blank piece of paper. “You do have a name?” he queried, once again the curl of a smirk played at the side of his lips.

  I nodded as I considered his request for my details.

  “My name . . . errr . . . Grace.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.” He chuckled slightly at my discomfort, and then added my name. “Grace.”

  He tilted his head sideways, taking me in. I could see his eyes wandering down my body. For some reason I didn’t mind, he didn’t freak me out like he should have done. I was not used to this kind of attention; I’d never had anyone look at me the way he just had. I gazed back at him, taking his body in now, looking him up and down. Did I want to join ‘his’ club?

  “Do you have a surname?”

  “Dupont,” I replied, snapping free from the daze I’d been trapped in.

  “Are you French?” he asked, as a line of confusion pulled across his forehead.

  “French? No.” I shook my head.

  “Pity.” His grin returned. Seriously, he hadn’t stopped smiling or grinning since I’d met him.

  “Why’s it a pity?” I asked.

  “They’re meant to be a bit kinky.”

  I tried to hold in my laugh but couldn’t. Was he for real?

  “What?” he chuckled, feigning disbelief. “They are.”

  My laughter was interrupted by a group of girls rushing in front of me, pushing me out of the way.

  “Elliot!” they all shrieked.

  “Where have you been?” one of them asked.

  “You promised you’d call. I’ve been waiting all summer.”

  The girl who spoke was, again, obviously older than me, and seemed extremely familiar with him as she moved closer, trying to turn his face towards hers. He turned slightly, offering her his cheek which she immediately kissed, but he continued to stare at me. The girl moved in front of him, blocking his face from my view, but he moved his head to the side of hers, keeping me in his sight.

  “Please . . .” he mouthed at me, inclining his head at the piece of paper he’d given me.

  I looked at the torn sheet for a few seconds and then rummaged through my bag for a pen. I quickly wrote down the details he’d asked for. When I looked up, the four girls had completely circled him, and I could only see the top of his head above theirs.

  “When are you playing again?”

  “You must let us know.”

  “God, you’re more gorgeous than last year.”

  I huffed inwardly at their insincere comments. I’d met a few boys like him before. They loved all the attention and soaked up the compliments like greedy sponges. Gathering the little bit of information offered by the simpering girls, I surmised he was in a rock group which regularly performed. I also guessed he’d be the lead singer. He’d be more in love with himself then any of the females surrounding him.

  I straightened up. It was now or never.

  I folded the piece of paper in half and walked the five or so steps towards the girls and Elliot. Without any of them seeing, I pushed the paper into the back pocket of his jeans. His hand immediately came around over the pocket and squeezed mine. As I continued to move away from where he was standing, I glanced back at him. My heart skipped erratically as I caught him staring at me across the room.

  But as I walked free from the room and outside, I wondered whether I had done the right thing. The fresh air seemed to clear my head, and my heated body cooled as I sat on a bench and relaxed. I sighed, deflated. I shouldn’t have given him my details. I should have turned away and done what I always did when someone caught my eye—ignored him. But I had to admit, he intrigued me, just a little. And that worried me. I wondered what he’d be like on stage, how he’d come to life under the lights and how he’d tease the audience. He’d be interesting to film if nothing else. Maybe I could adapt a project to include him.

  A group of students walked past me, talking loudly, all fighting to hold court over the others. I sighed again, realising I’d still not signed up for any clubs. I could hardly count the Elliot Sutherland club as a genuine one. After taking several long gulps of water from my bottle I took another deep breath and headed into another building where students were advertising their clubs and events.

  By the time I headed home, I’d joined a camera club and an Art History Appreciation group. But my thoughts were all centred on Elliot. I was excited about him contacting me. The fluttering in my stomach alerted me to a feeling I’d never really experienced before. It both excited and scared me. I didn’t plan on having any distractions this year and I was more than convinced that it was exactly what he’d be. A complete distraction. I muttered to myself, reminding myself of the girl he kissed so easily, the tease behind everything he said. He was the sort of person who needed to be kept at arm’s length. But I also remembered the vulnerability of his gaze when he mouthed the word ‘please’. Was that all part of the act, of the tease to get me to do as he asked?

  I kicked at a stone as I made my way to the front door of the house. Greeted by silence I presumed no one was home, and I made my way to my room, to the sanctuary of my own space and my own company.

  I slipped my headphones over my ears and switched my iPod on. As the dulcet tones of a familiar song sounded out, I couldn’t help but imagine Elliot singing it to me. And as I closed my eyes and let my thoughts turn into dreams, I could think of nothing else but his smiling face and his captivating eyes.

  Would he call me, text me . . . ignore me?

  Chapter Three

  I had a busy week. Lectures and the ensuing reading lists and projects were immediately assigned for the term. When I wasn’t working, Kate was a constant presence in my room. She usually plonked herself on my bed, sat cross-legged and proceeded to tell me about the fashion business she planned to create when she graduated. It appeared that even though her parents wanted her to pursue a different career, they were still prepared to finance whatever she chose.

  She’d helped take my mind off Elliot. I hadn’t expected him to ring, but I checked my phone more often than normal. I had no experience of waiting for my phone to ring, waiting for a phone call from a man who I’d spent too much time thinking about. But when a week had passed, and I still hadn’t heard from him, or even seen him around campus, I resigned myself to the fact that he wasn’t going to call me. Why would he? Why choose the inexperienced girl who blushed at the slightest hint of a compliment when he could have a woman who was confident, comfortable in her own skin, and who knew exactly how to please him?

  After another full day of lectures, a microwave meal, and a warm shower to blast away the first week of university life, I sat in my room, reading one of the books assigned to my course. It was a thick, heavy book, and had to be read from cover to cover this weekend. My lecturer, if nothing else, was a bit of a slave driver. But I was lucky. I’d already read the other book he’d set us to read. I pitied the students who’d got two detailed books to familiarise themselves with.

  With my towel wrapped securely around me, I sank onto my bed, arranged the pillows against my back, and settled down to read.

  I’d only just finished the first chapter when a knock on my bedroom door interrupted my reading. Placing the book to my side, I sprang off the bed and headed to my door.


  Just as I was about to open it, the person on the other side knocked again.

  “Okay, okay,” I said as I opened the door.

  As the door swung open, I was greeted by an unexpected sight.

  “Elliot!” I exclaimed, my surprise showing all too obviously.

  He took in my lack of clothes and raised an eyebrow.

  “Grace,” he said, his voice holding a sultry lilt.

  I grabbed the top of my towel, yanking it tightly as heat rushed through me. I had no doubt my cheeks were burning bright crimson.

  “You never called. I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, rushing my words.

  He nodded at my towel. “Obviously not.”

  I managed to gain some semblance of control. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

  His already familiar smirk covered his mouth, but he nodded his agreement.

  “I’ll wait here. Let me know when I can come in.”

  I looked to the floor before closing the door. Only when it was shut did I allow myself a little inward shriek. Elliot was here. Elliot was outside my bedroom. He was waiting to come in and see me.

  Eager to lose the towel and be more presentable, I pulled my fluffy dressing gown off the hook on the back of the door. Unfastening the tight hold of the towel, I let it drop to the floor and then slipped my arms into the sleeves of the gown. I wrapped the front as tight as possible and pulled the belt taut. It came to my knees and offered a more modest covering than the short towel.

  Without giving the situation any further thought, I opened the door and backed away from the gap, waving him in to my room.

  “Come in,” I said. “Sorry about the state of everything, the room, me. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He smiled as he joined me in the room. “I think we’ve already established that Grace, or do you always wear just a towel when opening your door to strange men.”

  “I didn’t know it was you,” I said, trying to gain some composure after being faced with his striking unexpected appearance. He wore faded black jeans. His shirt was unbuttoned and hung loosely around his hips. His grey t-shirt was visible underneath the shirt, and his jacket was thrown across his shoulder.

  My father’s warnings about how most of the boys would be after one thing, and one thing only, flitted through my mind. He’d told me to be careful, not put myself in any risky situations, not be alone with a boy until I trusted him completely. All his warnings were standing right in front of me.

  He took a few strides into my room and leaned against the wall.

  Realising I’d been watching his every move, I quickly closed the door and drifted to the bed, picking discarded clothes from the floor and throwing them into my linen basket.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his as I sat on the edge of my bed.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, perhaps sounding more abrupt than I intended to. “If it’s just to tell me that you made a mistake by talking to me at the Freshers Fair last week, then you could have quite easily texted me. It would have been a whole lot easier than coming here and embarrassing me.”

  He frowned and cocked his head to the side.

  “I think you need to put some clothes on if you want me to take you out?” he said, a lazy smile pulling at his mouth.

  “Take me out?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Seeing him again was all I’d thought about for the last week—he was constantly on my mind.

  “Of course.” He stepped forward. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “You could have called,” I said, remembering the countless times I’d checked my phone for a missed call or text, and all the day-dreaming about what I’d say if he rang.

  He shook his head. “I lost your number, sorry. But I did read the address you scribbled down. I remembered where you lived.”

  Elliot looked around the room, his eyes settling on the bed.

  “Would you rather we stay here?” he asked as his gaze switched to me.

  The inexperienced girl inside panicked at his innuendo. Staying here didn’t seem the wisest choice. I didn’t know him, and he was obviously experienced with females. I would never be another notch on his bedpost—if that was all he was after then I’d soon find out, and he could run along to his next willing female.

  I lifted my chin and met his gaze fully.

  “You said you were going to take me out. Where?”

  He dropped onto the chair at my desk. “Would you like me to take you out, or would you like me to leave you alone?” he asked seriously, leaning forward. I frowned and glanced at his face. He wasn’t grinning or smiling, and he was studying the random swirled pattern of the carpet. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he added. “But I will if you ask me to.”

  What did I say? Was this my get out card? Tell him to leave and never return?

  He shifted his gaze from the floor, and raised his brows, waiting for my reply.

  “No.” I said, shaking my head.

  He ducked his head slightly. “No, what?”

  “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

  What was I saying? All my promises to myself, the ones where I needed to put my studies first, just have friends, nothing more, were unravelling faster than I could run.

  “Great!” He was on his feet and taking large strides to my bedroom door. “I’ll wait downstairs whilst you get dressed.” He turned slowly to face me. “Don’t be too long or I may come back and help.” He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the image, and then left my room.

  My heart thudded loudly, it was all I could hear.

  I grinned and thought briefly about not dressing and waiting for him to come back upstairs. But I wasn’t that sort of person. I sighed loudly to myself, almost hating that I hadn’t had the courage to let the dressing gown slip open whilst he was in the room. A cheeky flash, or a seductive smile would have probably given him the message I was only interested in him for one thing, that I was easy. Well, he’d soon learn I wasn’t like that. Tonight, I’d get to know him a bit better, see what made him tick. Hopefully we’d have a good time, but if we didn’t, then I’d not need to see him again.

  I grabbed my black skinny jeans out of my wardrobe, pulled on a light blue vest and slipped my arms into a checked shirt. I stopped as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My face was flushed as though I’d been running, my hair fell in every direction due to not having benefited from the obligatory blow dry it usually had.

  Is this what he saw, and liked? All I saw was a mess. I yanked my hair up into a ponytail, applied a quick slick of mascara, and pulled my boots on before grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair. I’d have to do.

  I walked down the stairs as slowly as my legs would let me and listened to the voices coming from the living room. My house mates were enjoying Elliot’s company. Their forced flirtatious laughter hit me light a battering ram. It reminded me of the girls all swarming around him last week. Was this the reaction all girls had to him? I shook my head as I forced the thought away. I was kidding myself to think I had a chance of Elliot ever having any romantic interest in me. I would be up against every girl in Edinburgh.

  I pushed the door open to be greeted with Elliot leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. A defensive pose I mused, wondering why. I’d noticed when I first met him that he adored being the centre of attention. I cocked my head to the side taking in the angle of his head—down, looking at the floor, as if uncomfortable, uncertain. I was unaware I was staring until Elliot turned, a familiar grin playing across his face as he caught my gaze.

  “You ready?” he said, walking towards me. “I was just about to come back upstairs.” The suggestion in his voice was obvious, and my house mates caught its tone, instantly quietening.

  “Come on,” he whispered slipping his hand into mine and leading me to the front door.

  It seemed that Elliot Sutherland had plans and whether I agreed or not, I was going to be swept along with him. The thought should have scared me, made
me run in the opposite direction, but for some reason, he intrigued me. What harm could come from just having a few drinks with him?

  Chapter Four

  I shivered as the evening air blew around me. It was cold, much colder here in Edinburgh than back in York. I silently made a mental note to buy a thick winter coat for the oncoming winter.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, trotting to keep in step with Elliot’s large strides.

  “A small bar. It’s my local. It’ll be quiet, and we’ll be able to talk.”

  “You want to talk?” Somehow, he didn’t appear to be a man who held serious conversations. He would be all action, probably horizontal.

  He chuckled before squeezing my hand. “Something tells me you’ve already decided a lot about me. But I’d like you to get to know me, the real me, not what you’ve allowed yourself to believe.”

  He looked forward, his eyes focused on the path ahead, but his dishevelled hair didn’t hide the deep line etched across his forehead.

  “What do you think I believe?” I asked, curious for his interpretation of my thoughts.

  He responded quickly. “That I’m not to be trusted.”

  He didn’t say anything more.

  I drew in a deep breath at his response. Of all the many random questions going through my mind, trust wasn’t at the forefront.

  “Can you be trusted?” I asked, tilting my head to watch his response and his lead in the conversation.

  A smirk pulled at his lips and he turned his head to face me. “Certainly not.” His ensuing laughter made me grin. Elliot Sutherland was proving to be a wild card, a man who I had no idea how to react or respond to.

  “My father warned me about boys like you,” I said, keeping my grin in place.

  “And so he should have, Grace. But I need to correct you. I’m not a boy. He should have warned you about men like me. And I think you should have listened.”

  My eyes widened at his words, and I momentarily tried to work out whether he was joking, but by the look of the frown which had appeared across his forehead, and the focus of his eyes on the path ahead, made me realise he had been serious. He wasn’t joking around; he was telling me what he was like—the truth. I swallowed the lump in my throat before taking a deep breath. I’d hear him out tonight, see what he wanted to tell me about himself. If nothing else, being out of the house was a welcome break from studying and the constant girly talk. And if I didn’t like what he was saying, I could leave. I’d never see him again.